Salby Damned

by Ian D. Moore

  They split into two teams of four men and walked towards the open roller shutter door, close to the main transport offices. Inside was ceiling-height steel racking, holding tons of tinned food, bottled drinks, cans of beer, boxes of wine, basic produce, packet foods, and lots of other things, all on blue wooden pallets. The sight of so much, stacked up to forty feet into the air, was awe-inspiring.

  Team one went left and team two took the right. Each member used an empty six-foot-by-two-foot, four-sided, metal mesh, rolling cage to load supplies into. It would be filled, wheeled out to the yard, and transferred to the waiting carrier. Each team had a list of items required, supplied by the base, ranging from cooking ingredients to toilet rolls and everything in between. Taking their lists, each team split into pairs, one loading and one covering.

  Some of the stock wasn’t within reach so the electric handlers were used, after they had figured out how they worked. Nathan and Chris teamed up. Chris covered with his rifle while Nathan pushed the cage, grabbing items as they rolled up and down the aisles; his rifle was slung behind him, diagonally across his back. At the right end of the warehouse stood racks of clothing hung on wheeled metal rails ready for sorting.

  Without shouting, Chris pointed towards it, gaining Nathan's attention; it was a chance for some clean kit for the children and themselves, plus whatever they could carry back for the residents of the base. Nathan approached the first of the banks of railed clothes and stopped dead. Dropping to one knee, his cage continued to roll forward, coming to rest against a rail full of dresses. He had heard something, a low growling sound. Chris dropped, levelling his rifle, scanning slowly left to right and back again.

  Nathan pulled his weapon over his shoulder before bringing it to bear in the direction of the noise he had heard, still unable to track its source. The standoff continued with both Chris and Nathan motionless, scanning through the rifle sights and looking over the top for a wider view.

  Was that scratching?

  There was a low growling noise as the dresses parted in a flurry of material. Charging towards Nathan was a sandy-coloured dog, a Labrador, which leapt between Nathan and Chris, skidding on the smooth concrete floor in an effort to gain grip. It yelped as it collided with the metal support beam holding the racking but quickly regained balance.

  It ran towards the open doors, passing through to disappear over the yard area and on into the distance.

  “Scared the shit out of me!” Chris said, smiling.

  “Had me a tad worried too, mate. It must have been looking for food or sheltering in here.”

  “Yeah. Reckon there could be other creatures in here too; keep your eyes peeled.”

  “Got that,” Nathan said.

  They moved to the rack of clothes from where the dog had emerged. Slumped on the floor, up against the wall, was the body of an elderly gentleman; the dog had been his and had stayed with him. Nathan bent down, staying far enough back just in case the man was infected, and looked at his eyes. He could see that they were closed, that he had colour to his skin, and had a small scratch to his hand that had evidence of blood, now crusted over the wound. He edged towards the slumbering figure.

  “Sir? Sir, can you hear me? It’s the Army, sir. Can you open your eyes for me?”

  The man groaned slightly, trying to raise his hand in a defensive gesture as his eyes struggled to open; he was alive.

  “He’s weak, Chris. Probably came here looking for food. Doesn’t look like he would be capable of walking too far. Do you reckon we can get him up?”

  “I’ll call for some cover before we move him. He’ll have to go on the chopper when it gets back,” Chris said.

  He walked to the end of the aisle, waiting for two of his colleagues to emerge from the next aisle and then shouting for their assistance.

  Between them, they managed to coax the elderly gentleman to stand, but soon determined that it would be easier to carry him than have him walk. They lifted him at the back of his thighs, effectively creating a chair, placed his arms around each of their shoulders, and walked him out to the rolling door exit. They found a seat for him so that he could wait for the helicopter to arrive.

  The dog sat just outside the warehouse, waiting for his master loyally. In the distance, the helicopter could be seen flying over the trees, heading for the warehouse. They readied the gentleman for airlift back to the base; the medical teams would take care of him and his faithful pet. The second team of eight disembarked and unhooked the folding crates. They provided cover while their colleagues moved their casualty, strapping him into one of the passenger compartment seats.

  Before the helicopter lifted off, Nathan signalled the pilot for two minutes longer, and he turned, calling the dog to the aircraft.

  “Come on, boy!” he called, bending down and trying to encourage the animal to come.

  It sat looking warily towards him, then at his master seated inside, as if trying to determine what to do. Then, with a final look, it ran over to greet him, tail wagging, before sitting. Nathan patted the dog before ushering it onto the helicopter where it sat at its master’s feet, looking back in what could have been a canine thank you.

  They returned to the warehouse without further incident, managing to fill up the cages with supplies and stock. In a small backpack, Nathan put clean clothes for Tom and Holly with underwear, socks, and a couple of clean T-shirts for himself, a small but necessary perk of the mission, and to him, justifiable in the circumstances.

  They boarded the second helicopter with news from the pilot that the gentleman they'd found had been with the medics, had come round, and had asked that thanks be given to those who had helped him and “Sam” his retriever.

  With the supplies secured to the underside of the second helicopter, the eight-man team boarded, ready for the short flight back to the base. The store men and women would unload the items when it touched down.

  After disembarking at the base, Chris and Nathan returned their weapons to the armoury ready for a night off and time to catch up with the kids for Nathan.

  *******

  Infected

  The entry to the facility at Salby had gone well and with fewer casualties than Evie had expected. The scientists split into separate teams but needed to compare their results occasionally so they met to allow them to learn from each other; science was like that, inclusive and collaborative, pushing boundaries. They were agreed that they needed access to an infected subject in the isolation chambers within the facility; they could then use their high-tech equipment for their research.

  Even those who had been stuck inside the base for five days were in high spirits; each had a new sense of direction, especially as fresh supplies had been sent in from the surface. The knowledge that their chief medical officer was safe and well helped to lift the atmosphere too; having her present added a sense of normality to an otherwise abnormal situation.

  Isolation labs were made ready for the infected subjects to arrive and requests made to the mission commander for extra armed guards to be detailed for round-the-clock cover upon the arrival of the infected. The teams were ready and prepared, so Evie made the decision to return to the base until she had a live specimen to work with. She took the lift back to the surface and entered the study of her home. She packed a bag full of clothes and essentials, ready to take the next helicopter, which was being diverted from a supply mission to collect her.

  ***

  Back at the base, with the first of the live victims heavily sedated, Dr. Fitzgerald took a closer look at her physical signs, taking samples of the jelly-like blood substance that now flowed through her veins. Even with the information he had been given in the initial briefing with Dr. Shepherd, it seemed to him that finding an antidote to this creation would be an almost impossible task. The virus had been engineered to attack all, irrespective of the age, ethnic origin, or sex of the subject—an almost perfect weapon, if abhorrent to any thinking person.

  Charles knew that the virus eventually kill
ed its victim by way of seizure due to lack of sleep. In most individuals, this occurred between three and ten days after exposure. For those with additional medical complications, this could happen in as little as three to five days. The human body was not designed to remain awake constantly, and since the beginning of time, it had always been the one obstacle that humans, as a species, had yet to overcome.

  If they placed the young girl in an induced state of unconsciousness fast enough, it would slow the degenerative process down; though the virus would continue to tell her brain that she was awake. If she’d been infected two days ago, a fair assumption given the state of her clothes and with little deterioration yet visible in her weight, it would be safe to assume that she may have between five and eight days left, at best, in the absence of a cure.

  He was examining the girl as Lieutenant Colonel Connell entered. The C.O. was curious about the new guest on his base and eager to quiz Charles.

  “So, our first live victim. What do we know, Charles?”

  “In all honesty, not a great deal more than we already know. We’re running tests on tissue and blood samples, if you can still call it blood. It seems that, even though we are keeping her in an induced state of unconsciousness, we will be unable to keep her alive indefinitely; at best, ten days, and at worst, as little as three, and that's from the time she became infected.”

  “This virus really is a mean son of a bitch, isn’t it?” Richard stated.

  “It was designed to be effective and catastrophic; it certainly is both,” said Charles, his tone filled with distaste.

  “I know this is what we do, but Richard, sometimes I have to wonder if what we do is right.”

  “Old friend, I’m inclined to agree; however, our personal views serve no purpose to those in power, I’m afraid.”

  The noise of the helicopter echoed as it approached the base. It carried fresh supplies and Dr. Evelyn Shepherd. A radio operator had informed Charles that Evelyn would be on the first available aircraft back from the base, though Evelyn was not aware of the captured victim.

  “We should go and meet Evelyn. She’ll be interested to work with our guest. I think we’re about ready for another one too, a little older perhaps. Male or female, it doesn't matter. Can I leave that with you, Richard?”

  “Of course, I’ll see to it. Let’s go meet her and give her the good news.”

  Fully disembarked and clear of the whirling rotors, Evie spotted Charles and Richard approaching. She waved at them both and thanked the C.O. for his assistance in returning to the base. She then greeted Charles with a customary hug.

  “It’s good to see you both. How are things here? Have there been any improvements or advancements, Charles?”

  “Funny you should say that. We captured a live victim. She’s a youngster; we think about sixteen to nineteen years old. We’ve stabilised her, put her into an induced coma, and are currently running tests on blood and tissue samples, as well as introducing a potential antiviral formula to see what happens to the cell tissues. So far, nothing good is happening, sadly.”

  “Wow! You have been busy in my absence. Impressive. Will we have any more captured today? I’d like to get cracking with them as soon as possible. The virus will continue to tell their bodies that they are awake, so they will eventually simply fall into seizure and die. The quicker we can get to work with them the better, really.”

  “I’ve asked the C.O. to arrange for another capture. You’ll start the ball rolling straight away I should think, Richard, yes?”

  Richard nodded, greeting Evie as Charles continued.

  “For now, come and see our new guest; two good heads are better than one. Maybe you can tell me what we’re missing?”

  “This will be the first time I have been able to examine anyone infected. It’ll be a learning curve for me as well, but I have faith that we’re now in a fight back situation, yes?” she said.

  They chatted as she walked, arm-linked with Charles to the Military Police HQ building. Richard peeled away towards the armoury in the hope of finding Staff Sergeant Stewall and Sergeant Cross, his marksmen for the mission to capture and detain another infected soul, even if they didn’t know it yet. He would need to formally authorise them to go ahead with the procedure.

  ***

  After signing his weapon back into the armoury, Chris collared Nathan.

  “Stag later? See if we can bag us a live one, what do you reckon, mate? We’ll have to clear it with the old man, of course.”

  “Chris, buddy, I’d planned to see the kids awhile, haven’t seen them for almost a day, what with the supply recce. They made a picture for “Major Paul,” as Holly-Polly calls him, and we’re going to give it to him later. They’re pretty excited about it, and I can't disappoint them.”

  “Doesn’t matter, I’m thinking a later one myself; give me a chance to get a couple hours shut-eye first, maybe 0200 hours? Go on, you know you want to,” Chris said cheekily.

  He was right too; Nathan did want to go, having seen what the virus did to ordinary people. It was public enemy number one at the moment.

  “Ahhhhh, you’re a shit, you know that? Go on then. Two in the morning. It’ll give me time with the kids and a couple of hours rest with any luck. I need to bathe and change too; reckon half the base must know I’m coming by now.”

  “Didn’t like to tell you, bud, but you’re beginning to hum pretty badly; at this rate, we’ll need an antivirus to protect us from you!”

  “Cheers, mate; knew you’d understand. Let me know if you get approval from the old man, and if you do, I’ll see you at 0200 hours, tower two. Don’t be late now,” Nathan said, winking.

  Patting his back as he left, Chris smiled, as he knew Nathan could never resist a challenge. They had served together many times and in all environments; he knew that, even though life had taken him in a different direction, Nathan was a military man through and through. The Army was in his veins and had been for as long as he’d known him. The C.O. walked in mere minutes after Nathan had left, and Chris braced for a salute, returned by the officer who then spoke.

  “Staff Sergeant Stewall, are you up for a task tonight?”

  “You know me, Sir,” he said smiling, already having an idea of what it would be.

  “You know that the day guard managed to capture a young infected girl? I’ve been asked by Dr. Fitzgerald to try to capture an older male or female, preferably both. Reckon you can find a body to help you and take care of that?”

  “I’ve just the man in mind, Sir. How about 0200 hours stag? We get more opportunity on the night guards; they tend to prefer the night time to come out, you see, Sir,” said Chris, happy that his plan was coming together.

  “Be sure you come find me, whatever the hour, when you’ve got one or both. I want to be kept in the loop, Staff Sergeant.”

  “Yes, Sir, I will,” he said and gave another salute as the C.O. turned to leave.

  “Damn, I’m good,” he whispered to himself.

  He made a mental note to find Nathan in good time, but for now he’d let him have some down time.

  It was almost 2000 hours and the light was now fading fast. The gunfire at the fences began to increase as the deadheads became more active.

  ***

  Nathan passed through the door and around to the left, weaving his way towards the bed spaces, to find Janey sitting with Tom and Holly and reading them a story. They jumped up to greet Nathan, and he bent down to hug each in turn.

  “I see they have you working hard still, Janey?”

  “Never ending, I think,” she answered.

  “You two had a wash yet? You look a little painted, Holly-Polly.”

  “Not yet, Naffam. We’re waiting for the bath and some bubbles; lots of bubbles, yay!” Holly said, giggling.

  “Good luck with that, Nathan,” Janey said, leaving him to it.

  “Come on then. Are we doing the bath first or should we drop by and see Major Paul to give him his picture?”

&nbs
p; They answered together almost as one, and loudly.

  “Major Paul. The picture, the picture!”

  The major had promised them a few treats for their efforts, after all. Hand-in-hand with Tom and Holly, Nathan walked to the main building, through the doors, to the left, and down the corridor. Tom held the rolled-up artwork they'd created. As they walked, the children looked at the pictures of tanks, planes, and military vehicles adorning the walls alongside photographs of senior officers, including one of the current C.O. himself, Richard Connell.

  “Is he the boss?” said Tom, out of the blue.

  “Which one do you mean? Major Paul or that gentleman there?”

  “Him there, on the wall, is he the boss?”

  “That is Lieutenant Colonel Richard Connell. He is the commanding officer of MOD Dishforth, yes. So, I guess you could say he’s the boss, but whatever you do, don’t call him that. You must give him a salute and address him as Sir, okay?”

  “Oh, okay,” Tom said, nonchalantly.

  “When soldiers salute, they do so in honour and respect of the Queen’s crown that an officer wears on his lapel, the edge collar of his jacket or shirt, and the epaulettes, the tops of his shoulders, and also to respect the rank and the person. Does that make sense?”

  “Ummmmm, sort of, I think I get it. Are we there yet?”

  “Yes, look. Here is Major Paul’s office. Now remember, be very polite and we’ll have to knock first. Remember to say thank you, Sir for anything you may be given.”

  “Yes, Naffam, we will,” said Holly joyfully.

  Nathan rapped the wooden door with his knuckles and awaited a response.

  “Come,” said the muffled voice from within.

  Nathan pushed open the door, holding it as the children entered. Tom stood with the folded artwork, his hands clasped in front of him, and Holly copied the stance, but found it difficult to stand still. Nathan approached the desk, bracing up, although not required to salute, as he was not in uniform. The children looked around the wood-panelled room. The gilt-framed pictures and statues reminded them of their grandfather’s house with its slightly musty smell of age.